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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258497">Never Been Happier</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellxtions/pseuds/constellxtions'>constellxtions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>11x01, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gap Filler, M/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:54:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellxtions/pseuds/constellxtions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And yet on the paper he wrote “fuck other people”. It was the first thing that came to his mind, really: to please Ian, to be on the same page, even though it meant to agree to something he never wanted, something he had never really thought of because, damn it, it was Ian.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Never Been Happier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His head was throbbing wildly. He wasn’t sure it was because of the loud music or because of the yet another beer he was drinking that day. He wasn’t even sure it was his head that was throbbing, at that point. Maybe it was his heart? Maybe it was the effect of that damn anxiety that possessed him every time he was reminded that yeah, maybe Ian regretted having married him? What the hell was it supposed to mean, all that talk about monogamy? Why did he have to bring it up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was from that moment that he had only one thought in his head: </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, Ian wants to fuck other people</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was, the confirmation: Ian didn’t love him the same way Mickey did love him. It had always haunted him, somehow, that thought. At the end of the day, it was always him to run after Ian, to never surrender. Ian, instead, had done it so many times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t really know what to do, or how to react. He again put a high and thick wall between them. He thought he wouldn’t have to do it ever again. Not when he married the only boy -fuck, the only </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span>- he had ever loved in his entire life. His miserable fucking life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet here they were, at Lip’s house, Ian’s right arm around his shoulders, with the hand of the other arm he was tracing the tattoo on his heart with his name written on it. And Mickey himself was caressing his back and laughing. But what was he laughing for, when inside he felt like falling again? He was doing it for Ian, he soon realized. If Ian wanted to fuck other people, he was free to do it. He wasn’t going to turn into a jealous wife. But then, why did Ian write “monogamy” on the piece of paper? What kind of cruel game was he playing at? First he brings up the argument, out of the blue. Then he opts for monogamy. Didn’t he want to fuck other people, then? Or he did, but at the same time he didn’t want to hurt his feelings? He didn’t know what to think about it. As far as he was concerned, Mickey didn’t want to fuck nobody else in his life, nor did he want Ian to do it. And yet on the paper he wrote “fuck other people”. It was the first thing that came to his mind, really: to please Ian, to be on the same page, even though it meant to agree to something he never wanted, something he had never really thought of because, damn it, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t want to fight, he wanted them to be just fine. He felt already guilty enough because of the money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the situation became unbearable. He shrugged his shoulders. Ian let him go, freeing him of the weight of his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going out for a smoke.” He didn’t look him in the eyes, he just turned and headed the fastest he could to the back door. He nearly tripped over hammers, buckets of paint and kids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hot outside. It was the end of July, after all. He inhaled deeply. He went up and down the porch stairs a dozen of times, finally deciding to sit down. He already did the same thing no more than two hours earlier. Ian was still at work and while he was watching a movie with Liam, he realized that he really fucked up. How could he have spent all their money behind Ian’s back? How could he have reminded him that his meds weren’t that cheap? After all he’s been through because of that illness? What the hell was he thinking, exactly? Why did he always have to be on the defensive? Why couldn’t he, fucking once, </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span>, try to communicate like normal people? He felt like shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he felt even worse. He put his head in his hands. He felt the weight of that piece of paper in the back pocket of his jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was almost done smoking when the door behind him creaked. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was, he had already recognized him by the sound of his footsteps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing happened for a few moments. Mickey still didn’t turn, he waited for Ian to come to him. He knew he would. Eventually he heard him going down the steps and stopping right behind him. His presence, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so close</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was something magical for Mickey, but at the same time excruciating. It was a living and constant reminder that said: </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, nothing lasts forever! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Ian’s torso melted with his back, he wrapped his arms around him from behind. He felt him gently rest his cheek on his head. Mickey grabbed his arms. He had long given in to the fact that it was an innate instinct of his, now. There was nothing he could do about it. He always had this urgent need to touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” A soft murmur. Mickey felt himself on the verge of tears. He shook his head up and down, slowly. He wasn’t alright, but he nodded anyway because he knew that Ian wouldn’t be fooled by something like that. He heard him make a sound that Mickey knew meant “</span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. That damn redhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Mickey turned to face him. He seemed lost just as much as he felt in that moment. Maybe they were simply two idiots, not knowing in the least what they were doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you apologizing for now?” He saw him swallow. Ian’s hand tightened his grip around his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought it up… that thing. It had nothing to do with it. We were talking about money. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Gallagher. If you want to fuck other people, be my guest.” Mickey felt himself drowning in the feeling of throwing up saying those words out loud. But Ian seemed disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you… want to fuck other people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck no. What’s gotten into you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what was all that scene about? Why didn’t you want to show me what you wrote? Why.. why are you ok with… with me fucking other people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if that’s what you want, I won’t be the one to stop you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t give a fuck if I fuck other people? That’s what you're saying, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey bit his lips. Of course he cared. If only Ian had the slightest idea of the urge to throw up that he was feeling in that moment. But he couldn’t give in to Ian, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I give a fuck, Gallagher! You really think that I chased your ass for years to marry you and then see you fucking other people? The fuck’s your problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… it seemed to me that it was what you wanted. You didn’t show me what you wrote.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey shook Ian’s arms from his body and got up. Sometimes it felt good towering over him, feeling bigger than him. He bit his lips again. Fuck it. He grabbed the piece of paper and threw it at him. Ian was surprised, he wasn’t expecting that. Yet the surprise faded from his face as soon as his eyes landed on the crumpled piece of paper. His expression fell. His eyes seemed to lose that bit of vitality still present in them, his lips turned into a straight line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again Mickey felt that urge pervading him. Ian spoke without looking at him, his eyes fixed on that slip of paper. And yet his voice was firm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fuck other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey snorted. “The fuck I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Ian looked him in the eyes. Now he just seemed angry. “Your fucking paper seems to say something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it. Fuck all of this. Fuck his damn barriers. They were married, for fuck’s sake. Maybe it was time to let that fucking wall fall down. He sighed. He was trying. He kneeled in front of Ian and took his face in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ian, for fuck’s sake. After everything we’ve been through you really think I would want anyone that wasn’t you? You think I would screw everything up after I finally married your stupid ass? Why is it so hard for you to understand that I love you more than anything else on this fucking planet?” He stopped. He wiped a tear that escaped Ian’s eye away. He kissed him. “Ian. You have to understand, at last. You have to understand that there is nothing you could do that would let me walk away from you. Not your illness, not the fact that you kick me while you sleep, not the fact that you can’t make a damn toast without burning it.” Ian laughed and an unbearable weight dropped from Mickey’s heart. They were good, they were good. Ian rested his head on his chest. Mickey placed a kiss into his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wrote what I wrote because I thought that’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian raised his head. “Why would you think something like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here we are</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because you have already left me so many times, for example.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he trusted Ian. He knew his insecurities, and sometimes he hated him for them. He had to know, by now, that Mickey would never leave him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was you who wanted to discuss it, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the blue, Mickey was attracted to Ian’s body. Their lips crashed violently. Ian held his shirt tight in his hand, in exactly the same spot which, some minutes ago, he had gently traced with his fingers. His breath tasted of beer. Mickey felt him smile against his lips and he couldn’t resist not doing the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mick?” Their mouths were now separated, but still so extremely close. Ian’s breath was dense on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” He kissed him again, his red head in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to fuck anybody else, ok? And I don’t want to fuck anybody else. Only you.” He whispered. His eyes were almost closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. I think I’ll be able to hold back for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian smiled. It was the most beautiful, the most radiant sight for Mickey. “Fuck you.” Ian said, giggling. His laugh, something unique.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian kissed him again. “I love you too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! This is the first fic I'm publishing here. English is not my first language so if you find any mistake please just let me know. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated. I know we're on episode 3 already but I just joined AO3 so here's a fic for episode 1. I hope you like it. I love these two guys and I'm actually enjoying this season a lot so far!<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/constellxtions_">Twitter</a> ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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